


Pillow Talk

by gemjam



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 11:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13363380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: They've always had to hide, but Jenson finding out gives Mitch a new perspective on things, and a new ear to bend.





	Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic back in 2014 and just discovered it fully finished hanging out in my WIP folder and I have no idea why I never posted it. Enjoy!

Mitch pulls up to the cottage, getting out of his car and spinning his keys around on his finger as his eyes inevitably drift over to Mark's house. The lights are on, all warm and welcoming. Mitch's house will be cold, he's been out all day, and Mark has better coffee than him. He spins on his heel and instead digs out the key to Mark's front door as he heads across the lawn.

He can hear the dog's scrabbling on the floor as he lets himself in, ready for the barrage he's about to receive. Getting in without letting them out is a skill he's mastered over the last couple of years. After a bit of petting they lose interest and head back to their baskets. Mitch calls out but he doesn't expect a response now he hears the quiet of the house, sees that it's not the main lights that are on. He taps out a text asking Mark where he is and then goes to investigate what he can steal from the fridge. A few moments later he gets a response.

_We're in the pub. Get your arse over here._

Mitch smiles to himself, closing the fridge and heading back out the door. He doesn't bother querying who _we_ is. He and Mark basically exist within the same circle of friends and it always feels like a safe place to be. It's a short walk down the country lane to the pub they frequent; close enough to stagger home from. The warmth hits him as soon as he walks through the door and he knows already that this was an infinitely better idea than sitting at home alone.

He sees Mark sitting with Jenson towards the back of the pub, the little corner that Mitch is so fond of. He's brought his other friends here before, the younger guys, but it's not their kind of place. It's an old man pub really, regulars propping up the bar. It suits Mark's laidback nature better than it suits Mitch's energetic friends. Mitch likes that about it.

"You have some catching up to do," Mark tells him as Mitch approaches the table, shrugging off his jacket. Mark has already bought him a drink in anticipation of his arrival, but before he gets to the beer a shot glass is slid towards him.

"Okay," Mitch agrees, quirking an eyebrow at Mark before downing the shot, chasing the burn with a couple of swallows of beer. "Happy?"

"You're buying the next round," Mark tells him, sitting back and sipping his wine.

Mitch leans forward to look at Jenson on Mark's other side. "Has he been this charming all evening?"

"If by charming you mean a bastard, then yes, he has," Jenson replies.

Mitch laughs and Mark and Jenson fall back into their conversation before talk turns to Mitch and the boring sponsor event he was doing in London today. He makes them laugh with his stories and it gives him a little glow inside. He thinks it might come from the little kid in him impressing these men he watched and looked up to as a kid back in New Zealand, but mostly it's just because this is comfortable, being with friends, being accepted. He's built a life he never expected here and sometimes he can barely believe his luck.

He gets the next round in and Jenson gets the one after that and then the three of them are walking back down the country lane to Mark's house. They're merry but not rowdy and Jenson leads the conversation with a story about DC and naked rugby tackling that Mitch has heard a thousand times but never gets bored of. Mark walks closer and closer by Mitch's side under cover of darkness, their hands touching with every step, and it sends a little thrill through Mitch. His breath catches in his throat and he almost forgets to laugh at Jenson's story.

Back at the house Mark makes coffee and they all settle on the big sofa, Mitch in the middle flicking through channels on the TV before he decides the conversation in the room is much more entertaining. It's more subdued now but the alcohol lends a safety to the interactions, or maybe Mark's inhibitions are further gone than Mitch realised as his hand lands firmly on Mitch's thigh in a way that leaves little room for interpretation and Mitch freezes because nobody knows. Nobody is supposed to know.

Mitch looks up at Jenson to confirm this because maybe Jenson does know? Maybe Mark told him once, drunk or sober or in one of the hard times when good news was needed. Judging by the look on Jenson's face that conversation has never happened. It's not that he looks comically shocked, just curious in a way that says this is all brand new and he's not quite sure how to process it. Mark seems to catch himself, pulling his hand away and reaching for his coffee before putting it back down again without taking a sip. With a sigh he leans back into the sofa, his body inclined towards Mitch's, and he looks really tired.

Jenson suddenly starts telling another story, something about Monaco and Alex Wurz and kite surfing, and Mark instantly relaxes into Mitch's side. It's nice, the warmth of Mark, the acceptance of Jenson, the way the alcohol makes him feel a little bit fuzzy. As Jenson's story progresses, Mark edges his hand back towards Mitch, almost daring himself, and his fingers are out of view of Jenson now as they trace the outside seam of Mitch's jeans, but it's still the most public thing they've ever done. Mitch looks up at Mark, their eyes meeting, and Mitch feels an urgent need to just touch him and kiss him and drown in him.

"Well," Jenson says with a note of finality, placing his empty cup on the table. "Should I call a taxi?"

"Guest room's yours," Mark says. "I told you that earlier, mate."

"You did," Jenson agrees. He looks at Mark for a moment and then gets to his feet. "Night, then."

Mark gives him a nod and they clasp hands briefly as Jenson passes on his way to the stairs. Mark and Mitch listen in silence until his footsteps fade away along the landing and then Mark turns to Mitch, looking at him, all of him from head to toe, before he slides a hand under Mitch's T-shirt, touching his belly, his side.

"Bed?"

Mitch just nods, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. They don't lose contact with one another as they make their way up the stairs, along the hall, onto the bed. Mark's body presses Mitch into the mattress and they look at each other for a moment, everything seeming so much more real than it has before. Mitch chews on his lip, Mark's breath falling across his mouth. No matter how many times he's told himself the label of _dirty little secret_ doesn't apply, it's been at the back of his mind since day one. You hide the things you're ashamed of. Mark isn't hiding him anymore.

They kiss slowly, almost tentatively, and it's kind of like the first time all over again except the first time was nothing like this. Mark's hands are already inside his T-shirt, pushing the material upwards, and Mitch lifts his arms, arches his back, let's himself be undressed. The first time was rushed but not frantic, both of them assertive and sure of what they wanted, having waited long enough to get there. Now they strip one another with familiarity and a feeling like they have all the time in the world.

Mitch doesn't remember it ever being as intense as this, the way Mark touches him, the way Mark moves above him. Mitch clings on, whimpering, feeling like he can't breathe. It's like they've unlocked something, the connection between them amplified. The lack of inhibitions has nothing to do with the alcohol in their systems. Mark looks him right in the eye when he comes, his body shuddering before he gives in to the shaking of his arms, burying his face in Mitch's neck as he plays with his cock, Mitch only needing the tiniest bit of inspiration to follow him headlong into orgasm.

Mark quickly gets heavy but Mitch doesn't really want him to move. He likes that solid weight, how totally grounded and protected and a part of something it makes him feel. He likes Mark's breath falling against his damp flesh, likes the rise and fall of Mark's chest that Mitch has no choice but to mirror. Mark eventually moves with a sleepy noise like he's disgruntled at being disturbed. He stretches out his whole body like a cat and then grabs a tissue from the box he's taken to keeping on the nightstand, the extent of his cleaning up. He'll wash the sheets tomorrow. Probably.

Mark climbs beneath the covers and settles himself down, tugging the corner of the duvet to himself. Mitch smiles. He knows that he could be the thing Mark is tugging towards him but he's not really sleepy and Mark gets grumpy when he fidgets. Instead he heads through to the bathroom, taking a quick shower. He has the water hot, steam filling the bathroom, and he draws a smiley face in the condensation on the mirror for Mark to discover in the morning after his own shower.

He'd usually go grab a glass of water naked, the dogs don't care, but with Jenson around he opts instead to pull on a pair of his sweatpants that seem to have migrated over to Mark's house at some point and one of Mark's T-shirts. He glances at Mark, mouth open, probably on the verge of drooling, and he wants to take a photo but it feels too intimate to risk being discovered by one of his friends going through his phone. Nothing is sacred in their little circle, they share everything. Well, almost everything, Mitch thinks with a tinge of regret.

He leaves Mark's bedroom door open as he heads down the hallway, knowing it will give him just enough light to find his way. As he passes the guest bedroom where Jenson is he notices the light is still on. Downstairs Simba lifts his head curiously as Mitch enters the kitchen but Shadow sleeps on oblivious. Mitch grabs a glass, letting the tap run for a moment to make sure it's cool before filling it up. He downs half of it to quench his thirst and then tops it up again, carrying it up the stairs.

The light is still on in the guestroom and Mitch pauses outside the door, hesitating. He listens for a moment but he can't hear any sound. Maybe Jenson fell asleep with the light on. Still, he can't help his curiosity. He steps forward and knocks gently.

"Yeah?" Jenson responds from within. He doesn't sound like a man who's just been rudely awoken.

Mitch cracks the door open to peer through, seeing Jenson propped up in bed, his phone in his hand. Mitch pushes the door a little further, leaning on the frame.

"Hi."

"Hi," Jenson returns.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Mitch asks.

"Didn't have anyone to... lend me a hand," Jenson responds. His face crumples. "I'm sorry."

Mitch laughs, stepping fully into the room. "Don't be weird," he says. "You apologising for innuendo is weird."

Jenson nods towards the glass in Mitch's hand. "You his maid as well as his toyboy?"

Mitch gives him a look. "This is for me," he says, approaching the other side of the bed. "He doesn't need one, he always passes out straight after sex."

"I'll just file that under things I didn't need to know about my best friend," Jenson responds.

Mitch sits down on the empty half of the bed. "Nobody knows," he says. "Mark's worried about my reputation, he says it will look unprofessional, that no one will take me seriously is they know."

"He's worried about his own reputation," Jenson counters. "Dirty pervert."

"That too," Mitch agrees, staring at the wall opposite. "It hasn't been going on that long. Definitely not since the beginning."

He places his glass of water by the side of the bed and turns towards Jenson, curling his legs up under him. Jenson puts his phone down in his lap, waiting.

"When I first moved to England I was desperate not to be a pain in his arse," Mitch explains. "I mean, yeah, he's a good guy, he wanted to help, but I knew he was only really looking out for me because someone asked him to. I was just a favour he promised to do."

"He likes to give back," Jenson says. "He's kind of obsessed with it actually. Trust me, you were a godsend to him. And that's before you started sucking his cock."

"Right," Mitch says, rolling his eyes, but he can't help but smile. "So, yeah, I didn't know anyone back then, I didn't have any friends over here yet. Me and Mark would go for bike rides together, and sometimes he'd come call for me when he was taking the dogs out. He fed me a couple of times a week. I didn't want to push my luck beyond that. I was pretty lonely. I took a lot of pictures of my shoes."

Jenson frowns. "Is that a young person thing? Am I too old to get that?"

Mitch snorts a laugh. "Probably." Jenson gives him a little shove. "Anyway," Mitch says. "Mark got me the Red Bull sponsorship, I got to meet some of the juniors, that was when I started making friends, when I started feeling at home here. And then, when I had my own life, I didn't feel like I was being clingy and annoying by going to hang out with Mark, it wasn't like he was my only option. I was hanging out with him because I wanted to, I realised. And he seemed to want me there too."

He feels himself blush slightly at the memories and he reaches for his glass of water as a distraction. He takes a sip, the cool liquid sliding down his throat, and he wants to press the glass against his heated face.

"I can't say it really surprises me," Jenson says. "Well, I didn't suspect or anything, not seriously. If anything I thought you were fucking the whole junior team. Is that your cover?"

"They're all ridiculous," Mitch says with overwhelming fondness. "It's a piss take mostly but it's better than no homo. I feel like I can be myself with them. They'd get it if they knew. I'd never hear the end of it, but they'd get it. Mark's right to not let them know though. Not one of them can keep a fucking secret, it'd be all over twitter within an hour." He takes another sip of water and then places it aside, licking his lips. He looks up at Jenson. "You're not on twitter that much."

"I won't tell anyone," Jenson assures him with such sincerity that Mitch wants to hug him. He just nods instead.

"Nothing happened until after I was eighteen," he blurts out, instantly cringing at himself. "It's not like we were _waiting_ ," he adds. "We weren't... It wasn't like that. We were mates. And then we were closer mates. And then I was spending more time here than I was at my own place and we started sitting closer together on the sofa and we'd find excuses to touch each other, a slap here, a tickle fight there. It wasn't... it wasn't anything really. It kind of snuck up on us to be honest." He looks at Jenson seriously. "I just know that he worries about these things so I need you to know that he never pushed it, he wasn't lusting after me while I was jailbait or anything. It was just a thing that happened. And then it kept happening. And now it's kind of the only thing I think about happening to be honest."

"You're a good fit," Jenson says.

Mitch smiles at him. "I like to think so." He takes a deep breath and lets it out as a sigh, his body sagging. "It feels so good to be able to say this stuff out loud. It's really heavy carrying secrets around, even when it's good things. You have to be on guard all the time. It's exhausting." He shifts on the bed, snuggling down into the pillows.

"Does that mean late night phone calls to me are going to be your stress relief from now on?" Jenson asks.

"Only if you're offering," Mitch replies.

"So long as you spare me the gory details," Jenson tells him. "And I get to take the piss out of Mark for being a cradle robber every so often."

"I doubt there's a force in the universe that could stop you," Mitch responds, smiling tiredly at him. He forces himself to sit up. "I should go before I fall asleep here and we have a lot of explaining to do in the morning."

Jenson nods, adjusting himself to slide further down the bed, placing his phone aside. Mitch swings his legs around onto the floor, retrieving his glass of water. With what suddenly seems like a gargantuan effort he pushes himself to his feet.

"Guess I'll see you for breakfast," he says.

"It better be a full English," Jenson responds.

"You're the only English one here so I guess you're in charge of that," Mitch tells him.

Jenson picks up a pillow and Mitch laughs, shutting the bedroom door before Jenson can hurl it at him.

"Night," he calls through the door.

Mark is fast asleep when he returns to the room. He places the glass by the bed and then strips out of his clothes, slipping naked between the sheets. He considers Mark's back for a moment, curved away from him, the bumps of his spine. He wants to run a finger down them but he doesn't want to risk waking him. Instead he flicks off the light and moves up behind him, slinging an arm over his waist as he presses their bodies together. Mark shifts, murmuring something, and then stills again. Mitch smiles to himself, closing his eyes, and he feels so content, so complete. With Jenson to bear witness, Mitch realises he has nothing left to doubt.


End file.
